Standing Naked in This Truth
by mscrwth
Summary: Bill makes Laura a silent promise SPOILERS for "A Disquiet Follows My Soul"


"Is there another role that I have to play for the rest of my life? "

Her question breaks him, as does the catch in her throat; the uncertainty in her gaze when she asks him if maybe she's earned the right to live a little before she dies almost makes him weep.

"Haven't I?" Laura asks. "What do you think? Haven't I?"

He wants to take her in his arms, crush her to his chest, rage against the injustice of it all, turn around and get out from under her burning, bruising, gaze and drink himself into another stupor. He does none of these things. If there is anyone in the whole damned fleet who has earned the right to be selfish, to just let go of all her responsibilities and live a little, it is this woman standing before him, so strong and yet so frail, a mighty spirit inside a ravaged body. If there is anyone who deserves an honest answer from him, it is her. "Yes, you've earned it."

"I have? Well guess what, so have you."

She kisses him then, and then gently moves him aside and resumes her run and all he can do is step aside when she pushes against his chest, all he can do is stand there and savor the taste of her on his lips, the tangy, sweaty, sweet taste of Laura Roslin, so alive now that she is no longer poisoning herself in an effort to kill the invader that has taken up residence inside her body.

It would appear that in that act of giving up on her treatments, she's given up altogether, but he thinks and hopes that maybe she hasn't. He thinks that maybe this letting go is what she needs to find herself again, to find why life is worth living even in the face of death, to find all the myriad reasons to live and perhaps love instead of throwing in the towel completely. Her life has not been about living for a very long time now. For four years, her life has just been about existing, it's been all about the Presidential façade, about continuing on, there has been no room for Laura since the colonies first ended, except maybe for a very small glimpse here and there. Throughout their journey, she's made one sacrifice after another for the good of the fleet; she's almost died several times over and faced betrayal and heartbreak at every turn. These last few months in particular, fighting the cancer while still maintaining faith in their happy ending, all the while holding the fleet together with the sheer force of her will alone, have whittled her down to her core.

Perhaps letting go of her one shot at survival and the pain and anguish that the treatments bring and just living instead is what she needs right now to reclaim the part of her that is just Laura as opposed the President.

That doesn't mean she is giving up, he tells himself, she is merely regrouping. Knowing her, she is probably still doing what is best for the fleet, even now, by taking herself out of the equation while she lets her spirit mend a little, lets her rage evaporate. The thought of a grieving and thoroughly pissed off Laura Roslin helming the Government makes him shudder in spite of himself.

Her wrath will know no bounds, her ire will obliterate any opposition and he recognizes suddenly that that is precisely why she has stepped back and let others takeover for a while. The fury of her grief would bring down the fleet, her guilt and the need to do penance would annihilate all the good she's done. This way, she can come back to herself and regain her strength, her vision, maybe even find out where people stand, where their loyalties lie in the power vacuum left by her absence. Yes, he muses, that's more like Laura Roslin, a master strategist, cunning and practical, even in her grief.

Finding Earth a nuclear wasteland may appear to have nearly broken her, but he knows Laura Roslin, she might bend, maybe, but she will never break.

As he listens to the rhythm of her fading footsteps, he comes to the quiet realization that refusing to take her medication and no longer subjecting herself to any more debilitating treatments is as much for her and her expressed wish to live a little before she dies - and for him, _them_, his heart sings, despite the circumstances, as he recalls her words, a clear invitation if ever there was - as it is for the fleet.

Her strength may have left her when they found Earth a wasteland, but truth be told she had been slipping even before then, getting weaker every day, the toll of trying to hold the remnants of humanity together while fighting against her illness and it's cure increasingly too high for her failing body to handle, even if not for her fierce spirit.

Giving up on her treatments will afford her the second wind she needs to step up to the plate and lead their people as a leader must, strong and forthright.

The realization hits him with all the force of a nuclear blast.

She is going to stop fighting for herself so that she can give the last of her strength to her people, a fleet that has lost its way, a dying nation mired in grief and hopelessness.

He leans against the bulkhead feeling faint, gasping in sheer anguish as the weight of it hits him. All he wants to do is go after her and shake some sense into her but he knows he's damned if he does, damned if her doesn't. He does not want to lose her, but the truth is he has been losing her to the cancer and its demon cure, little by little, day by day, for months now. He has had to stand by and watch her body wither away, has held her as she shuddered through endless bouts of nausea, has watched her attend to the duties of her office, even as pain wracked her frail body.

Laura Roslin, a powerhouse, always so strong, even in her weakness.

If this is the course she's chosen, she won't be backing down from it because he says so, and in truth, he can see the value in it. The people need a strong leader, now more than ever. So however much it hurts him, however much it will break him, he'll abide by her wishes. Instead of fighting her, he will love her and support her and be there for her for as long as he can, for as long as she needs.

And afterwards, when it is done and she has spent herself and is at peace, he will remember her, his love.

In everything he does from that day forward, he will find an echo of her, and he'll remember. He'll never forget. Every time he drinks a cup of tea, he'll remember to make it just as she liked it, hot and strong and just a little too sweet. Every time he sits on his couch he'll remember the exact position of her body as she sat there, and he will mold his body to her fleeting form and sink down into her embrace and his heart will skip a beat. When he sleeps in his rack, she'll be there and he'll remember everything, how she snored softly, and fidgeted sometimes in her dreams until he stopped her with a touch, how she laughed as she lounged there and they talked the night away. When he hears the sound of a pencil snapping, sees paper fluttering to the floor, he'll remember her and smile. She will be the heroin in every new story he reads, and those books they devoured together, he will read time and time again, and he will close his eyes and it will be her voice he hears in his head, reciting al their favorite lines, as he once read them out loud to her.

And when they finally reach their safe haven, and they will, in her name, they will, he will make sure of it, he will stand on an unknown beach, stare out over an unfamiliar sea, and see the changing green of her eyes reflected back at him. When he sees the sun rise in all its splendor, he will remember how her quick smile would light up the room and smile a little himself, and when it sets, and all he can think of is the exact shade of her glorious hair, and how the sunset pales in comparison, she'll be there with me, and he'll remember her.

And he will tell the tale of her, his love. How brave she was to him, how very fine, how she saved them all and fought so hard and kept them strong. How her resolve sustained them, how every impossible decision she had to make weighed on her, how she managed to do the right thing again and again, even though it wasn't always clear at the time, even to him. How she protected them and guided them and forgave them.

How she gave them hope for a better tomorrow, even at the expense of her own.

He will build a cabin in the mountains by a lake with water clear as glass, and see her everywhere, and until they meet again, he will be content to watch the sun rise and set each day, and remember her.

But that day is not today, all that is in the unknowable future. Today is theirs and tonight she will be his and whatever time they have left he will spend worshipping her. He will light what candles he can find, will read to her a little maybe and then make love to her with every fiber of his being and make her hum with pleasure. It will be another memory to be added to his treasure trove.

Tonight, and in all the days yet to come, he will create as many such memories of her as he possibly can and meanwhile, he will give her what strength he has and he will fight to stave off that day when memories are all that he has left of her for as long as he can.


End file.
